Читать книгу Cops And...Lovers? - Linda Castillo - Страница 10

Nick stared into his coffee cup and called himself a fool a dozen ways. He wanted to think he’d caved in and hired Erin McNeal because he owed Frank a favor. Because of her impressive credentials, or maybe because he felt the need to lend a helping hand to a fellow cop. But Nick knew his decision to hire her probably had more to do with the desperation he’d seen in the depths of her gaze—and the fact that she would have walked out of his office and not looked back in spite of it.

He glanced at the wall clock, annoyed that it was the fourth time he’d done so in less than twenty minutes. He told himself he wasn’t thinking about her, that he wasn’t anxious because this was her first day of work and she was going to be riding with him. But he was honest enough with himself to know that wasn’t quite true. In the three days since he’d hired Logan Falls’s first female police officer, he’d found himself thinking about her more often than he wanted to admit. He assured himself it was because she’d been involved in a shooting, and it was his responsibility, as her direct supervisor, to know her mindset. Only Nick knew his interest in her wasn’t as impersonal as he wanted to believe.

What bothered him most was that he’d reacted to her on a personal level. Not as a superior or fellow cop, but a man who saw a deep well of vulnerability beneath that veneer of toughness. A man who’d been willing to go against his better judgment the moment he laid eyes on her and saw the damaged pride and go-to-hell attitude—and the kind of curves that made his pulse pound.

He wondered how Frank would feel if he knew his good friend was ogling his niece, who was nearly ten years his junior.

Grimacing, Nick took a drink of coffee. He’d often wondered how long it would take for the celibacy to get to him. After Rita, he’d believed he was as immune as a man could get when it came to women. That was fine with him; the lack of distraction left him able to focus all of this attention on his daughter. Then Erin McNeal had walked in and proved him wrong. This was a hell of a time for his hormones to tell him he was still human.

So what if she was attractive? Nick had more self-discipline than he knew what to do with, and a whole lot more common sense. He certainly knew better than to court trouble. Erin McNeal had trouble written all over that shapely body of hers. Not that he’d been looking, of course. But there were times when a man couldn’t help but see the finer points of a woman, no matter how staunch his resistance.

Nick was truthful enough with himself to realize the woman intrigued him. But he assured himself he could handle it. Even after three years, he was in no frame of mind to take on a relationship. After losing Rita, he’d sworn he’d never put his heart on the line ever again. The consequences were too dire. Besides, he didn’t even like McNeal.

The bell on the front door jingled. Nick jumped, cursing when some of his coffee sloshed over the top of his cup. Even without looking, he knew it was Erin. Steeling himself against the anticipation winding through his chest, he glanced out his office door. His heart kicked against his ribs when he spotted her striding toward him through the outer office.

He watched her approach against his better judgment, knowing his slow perusal of her would probably cost him later. The navy jacket and skirt she was wearing should have been conservative, but the sway of her hips and the shape of her thighs beneath the material were anything but. She reminded him of a sleek panther. Graceful. Wary. A little dangerous. A hint of tightly wound energy lay behind that smooth gait. Her legs were long, her strides confident. She returned his gaze levelly.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning.” She entered his office.

“You’re early. It’s barely eight.”

“I like to get an early start.”

Even as an inner voice warned him against it, Nick found his eyes seeking out the silk blouse beneath her jacket. Before he could look away, the outline of lace and curves he had absolutely no business noticing scattered his concentration.

Silently cursing himself, he motioned to the chair opposite his desk. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes seemed darker today. They were the color of a rain forest, filled with shadows and secrets as mysterious as the forest itself. Taking the chair he’d indicated, she crossed her legs.

When her jacket parted, he looked down at his paperwork. “Did you find an apartment?”

“Actually, I took the one you recommended.”

“Good. I think you’ll find Mr. Barton is a fair landlord.” Nick wasn’t sure why he felt so off-kilter. In the ten years he’d been chief of police, he’d never felt awkward with his deputies. What was it about Erin McNeal that had him acting like a tongue-tied juvenile?

Disgusted by his behavior, he rose and walked to the metal file cabinet behind his desk, where her uniforms, service revolver and badge lay in a neat pile. He scooped it up and set it on the desk between them.

“You and I are riding together today,” he said. “We’ll be together until your probationary period is up in thirty days. I’ll show you around town. Point out the trouble spots, the city limits, the landmarks. Clyde Blankenship’s horses got out this morning. We’ll drive by and make sure he fixed the fence. He’s over ninety years old and doesn’t always do a good job.”

“Horses?”

Nick frowned at her, wondering if the lady hotshot cop from Chicago considered herself above such menial law enforcement tasks. “School started last week. Hector drew crosswalk duty. We’ll drive by and see how he’s doing.”

Erin nodded.

“There’s a locker room next to the water cooler,” he said. “You can change there. Locker number five.”

“It’ll just take me a minute to change clothes.”

The image of her slipping out of that skirt came to mind unbidden, but he ruthlessly shoved it away. “Assignments and shifts are posted weekly on the board above the time clock.”

Rising, she gathered her uniforms, revolver and badge from his desk. “How many other deputies work for you?” she asked.

“Hector and two part-timers.” Nick caught a whiff of her sweet, exotic scent—and nearly lost his train of thought. This was becoming downright annoying.

He studied her, trying not to notice the softness of her mouth or the delicate slant of her jaw. “Any questions?” he asked, rising.

“I’ll just get dressed.”

Rounding his desk, he started toward the main office, starkly aware that she was behind him. “Locker room’s there.” He motioned toward the hall leading to the rear of the building.

“I’ll be five minutes.”

“Take your time.”

Erin’s hands shook as she stepped into her uniform slacks and tucked in her shirt. Her service revolver lay on the bench beside her, reminding her that after six months and four interviews she was once again a police officer. She should have been ecstatic now that she was finally getting her life back on track. But the reality of what she faced was as disconcerting as it was thrilling. The responsibility of it pressed down on her like a lead weight. As she slipped the revolver into her holster, she tried not to think about whether she’d have the guts to use it.

Erin refused to second-guess herself. Not when she’d already passed the point of no return.

Smoothing her shirt, she picked up her extra uniform and started for the door, all too aware that her heart was pounding. “You can do this,” she murmured, determined not to let the uncertainty rattle her.

The sound of a child’s voice coming from the outer office broke into her thoughts. Curious, she continued down the hall and stopped on entering the main office. A little girl with hair the color of a wheat field sat at Hector’s desk, tugging a coloring book from her backpack. She looked to be only eight or nine years old, but possessed the most adult eyes Erin had ever seen on a child.

Nick had come out of his office and was walking toward the girl. “Why aren’t you in school, honeybunch?” he asked.

The child shrugged. “I wanted to ride with you today.”

“It’s a schoolday.”

“I don’t want to go to school today.”

Stooping, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then stood back and regarded her with an expression of stern amusement. “I thought you liked school this year. Isn’t today library day?”

“Mrs. McClellan doesn’t like me.”

“Doesn’t like you? What’s not to like?” He tousled her hair, his hand lingering. “Just between you and me, Mrs. McClellan told me you’re her favorite librarian.”

The little girl looked at the coloring book spread out on the desk. “Can’t I just stay here awhile? I brought my coloring book, see? I’ll be quiet.”

“Honey, I’d love to spend the day with you, but you can’t miss any more school and I’ve got work to do.” Digging in her backpack, he pulled out a box of colorful markers. “Who brought you here to the station?”

The little girl leaned over and shot Erin a less-than-friendly look over Nick’s shoulder. “Who’s that lady?”

Nick glanced at Erin, then turned back to the girl. “Her name’s Erin. She’s my new deputy—”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“Steph, I want you to tell me who brought you here.”

“No one.” She selected a marker and began to color. “I just left. Mr. Finn sent me to the office for talking to Kimmy Bunger during attendance. The hall monitor was in the bathroom, and nobody was paying any attention, so I just left.”

Erin saw Nick’s shoulders go rigid. “Wait a minute,” he said firmly. “You just left? An adult didn’t drive you here?”

“It’s not that big a deal, Daddy. The school’s only two blocks away.”

“I’m afraid leaving school without permission is a big deal, Steph. You know I’m going to have to call the school and talk to the principal again, don’t you?” Gently easing the marker from her fingers, he rounded her chair and pulled it back from the desk.

That was when Erin noticed the wheelchair. She stared, trying valiantly to curb the resulting shock.

“You know you’re not allowed to leave school without permission,” Nick said, picking up the phone and punching in numbers. “Why didn’t you tell your teacher you wanted to go home? Why didn’t you call me?”

In some small corner of her mind, Erin heard him ask for the principal. She stood frozen in place, telling herself the sight of the wheelchair hadn’t upset her, hadn’t made her remember.

Images from the night of the shooting burst forth in her mind’s eye. She fought the flashback, but it pressed down on her, a solid weight of fear that stole her concentration and threatened her control. Danny lying on the floor in a pool of blood. The churning in her gut. The smell of gunpowder.

The folded uniform she’d been clutching slipped from her hands and fell to the floor in a heap. Nick looked up, his eyes narrowing. Terrified he would misinterpret her reaction, Erin quickly scooped up the fallen uniform, then backed into the relative safety of the hall. Her chest felt as if it was being squeezed by a giant vise, but she forced air into her lungs. She was going to be okay, she assured herself. It had been a while since she’d had a flashback, but they still came on occasion. Whenever a sound or smell or sight reminded her of the night she’d been shot, it all came rushing back….

Ordering herself to calm down, she smoothed the front of her uniform and watched Nick kneel to tie his daughter’s shoe. The little girl wore a pink sweatshirt and matching pants, with polka-dot sneakers. It was a happy outfit, made for climbing trees and playing hopscotch. But Erin could plainly see by the look in this child’s eyes that she wasn’t happy. She certainly wasn’t going to get up out of that wheelchair and play hopscotch anytime soon.

“Get your books and markers together, kiddo,” he said. “I’m taking you home.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“It’s either school or home,” he said firmly. “I’ll let you choose.”

“Please, Daddy, I want to go with you.”

Erin didn’t miss the pain that knifed across Nick’s features. Jaw clenched, he looked down at the floor, then slowly straightened, as if the effort cost him more energy than he had to spare. “Put your books and markers in your book bag, honeybunch. I’ll take you home.”

Huffing in displeasure, the little girl wheeled closer to the desk and started throwing markers one by one into her book bag.

Erin hadn’t even known Nick Ryan had a family. He didn’t wear a ring; she’d assumed he was unmarried. That his child was handicapped struck a chord within her. Pain broke open in her chest—a slow ache that burgeoned until it enveloped her entire body. And her heart silently wept when she remembered another wheelchair, and a man she’d sentenced to the kind of hell she could only imagine in her worst nightmares.

“McNeal.”

She started at the sound of Nick’s voice, and forced her gaze to his.

Standing at the end of the hall, he shot her a look cold enough to freeze acid. “In my office.”

Pressing her hand against her stomach, she walked past him and into his office. Oh, Lord, she hadn’t intended to react to the wheelchair. She couldn’t imagine what he must think of her.

Nick entered behind her and closed the door. When he turned to her, his eyes were the color of a force five tornado that was headed straight in her direction.

“If the wheelchair bothers you I suggest you go back to Chicago and forget you ever set foot in Logan Falls,” he snapped.

“It doesn’t—”

“You look like you just saw a ghost. I can’t have you falling apart every time you see my daughter, for crying out loud.”

Erin stared at him, heart pounding wildly, while the words built in her chest like a sickness. “I’m sorry. I was…distracted—”

“You were about to come apart at the seams,” he interrupted.

“I was…thinking—”

“Thinking?”

“I was thinking about…Danny,” she said, knowing it would be professional suicide to tell him about the flashbacks or the nightmares.

“What does he have to do with this?”

When she trusted her voice not to betray her, she raised her chin and met Nick’s gaze. “He’s in a wheelchair. I’m the one who put him there.”

Because he had an eight-year-old daughter, Nick didn’t usually curse, but today he made an exception. Of all the explanations Erin could have offered, the bit about her ex-partner knocked him speechless as effectively as a set of brass knuckles.

He was accustomed to negative reactions to his daughter’s wheelchair. Some people stared. Others ignored her. Some people just smiled too much because they were uncomfortable with the prospect of a child who couldn’t walk. No matter how innocent, those reactions invariably upset Stephanie—and set his own temper ablaze. He would never forget the day she’d come home from school crying so hard she couldn’t speak. His heart had broken into a thousand pieces when she’d told him the kids had made fun of her. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d wished it was him in that wheelchair instead of her.

He wasn’t sure why, but he’d expected Erin to be different. She was a decorated cop. She’d seen a lot over the years. He’d hoped she’d be somehow above it. Then she’d hit him with that bit about her partner, and he’d realized her reaction didn’t have anything to do with a lack of character, but with her own private hell.

Damn, he didn’t want to have to deal with this.

“It was wrong of me not to tell you I’m still…dealing with what happened to Danny,” she said.

“Frank didn’t bother,” he said dryly. “Why should you?”

“Frank doesn’t hold me responsible. It’s not an issue for him.”

“He didn’t clean up your file, did he?”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Internal Affairs cleared you?”

She looked at him as if she were about to walk the plank—and he was the one holding the gun at her back. “Yes.”

Nick didn’t like the way this was playing out. It was clear this woman had been exonerated by the department. The problem was she hadn’t yet exonerated herself.

“The police department isn’t the place for personal baggage,” he said. “Even in Logan Falls.”

“I’m working through it.”

Even from three feet away he could see she was shaking. What in the world had happened to this woman? What had Frank gotten him into? Whatever the case, Nick wasn’t happy about the situation. He sure didn’t like the way he was reacting to her. At the moment, he wished he’d never heard of her. Wished he’d never hired her, for God’s sake.

But another part of him knew that wasn’t completely true. She might be an attractive woman who was affecting him in all the wrong ways. She might have let her partner down in a crisis. But she was still a cop. A cop who’d been cut down in the line of duty and needed a chance to get back on her feet.

Frowning, Nick crossed to his desk, but he didn’t sit. His temper was still lit, but he knew it would be wrong of him to take it out on Erin. He didn’t know all the details of what she’d gone through. Frank had told him the shooting wasn’t directly her fault—she’d followed procedure for the most part. But her momentary hesitation had cost her—and her partner—dearly. The ensuing Internal Affairs investigation irrevocably damaged her career. She’d lost her confidence. In the end, she’d resigned voluntarily, to keep herself from getting fired.

“I hope this doesn’t affect your decision about hiring me,” she said.

He turned and looked at her, taking in the rigid shoulders. The high chin. The gaze that was level and a little too intense. His chest tightened uncomfortably when he realized it was taking most of her nerve just to maintain eye contact. Whatever happened in that warehouse had taken a heavy toll on her. She blamed herself, he realized. Nick knew firsthand how easy it was to accept blame when the real culprit wasn’t able to.

“This isn’t going to work out if you can’t handle being around the wheelchair,” he said.

“I can handle it.”

“You sure about that?”

“It just…caught me off guard. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“I don’t think she noticed. But she’s sensitive about her handicap. I don’t want it to happen again.”

“It won’t.” Guilt shimmered in the depths of Erin’s eyes. “I overreacted. I’m sorry.”

Once again, Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her. She gazed steadily at him, her green eyes dark against her pale complexion. Relief flashed through him when he realized she wasn’t a crier. Female tears were the one thing he’d never handled well. Thank God he didn’t have to deal with that heaped on top of those bottomless, troubled eyes and soft mouth.

“We don’t have time to discuss this right now,” he said. “But you owe me a more detailed explanation.”

A breath shuddered out of her. “I know.”

He glanced toward the door, beyond which Stephanie waited. He’d always been protective of his daughter. Especially since the car accident three years ago that had taken her mother from her and injured her spine. As of late, it seemed his protective instinct had grown into something even Nick couldn’t control.

“I need to take her home,” he said. “You can ride along. Then we’ll start our shift, and we can talk.”

“Look, Nick, I’m a good cop—”

“This has nothing to do with whether or not you’re a good cop. The question is whether or not you’re ready to return to the field.”

“I’m ready,” she snapped.

He contemplated her, trying not to notice the way the sunlight brought out the red in her hair and made it shine like Oriental silk. Damn her for complicating things by being a woman. Damn him for noticing.

“I hope you’re right,” he said, and headed toward the door.

Erin watched Nick scoop his daughter out of the wheelchair and settle her onto the back seat of the Suburban, where he strapped her in place. He didn’t speak, didn’t even look at Erin as he folded the wheelchair and stowed it in the rear. Crossing in front of the truck, he slid behind the wheel and started the engine.

Erin got in beside him, hating that she’d reacted to the wheelchair so intensely. She’d thought the flashbacks were over. But the moment she saw Stephanie’s wheelchair, the night of the shooting had rushed back like a deluge of rancid floodwater. The man on the catwalk. The blue steel of a gun. The split-second hesitation that would haunt her the rest of her life.

Shoving the memory aside, she leaned back in her seat and gazed out the window, determined not to let the incident shake her. So she’d overreacted. If Erin had learned anything in the last several months, it was that she couldn’t change what was already done. Another mistake heaped on top of a dozen others wasn’t going to make a difference now.

Two slow, deep breaths and her nerves began to calm. For the first time since she’d climbed into the truck, she noticed the scenery outside her window as they drove toward Nick’s house. She’d never lived in a small town before, but had fallen in love with Logan Falls the moment she’d arrived. Surrounded by endless fields of corn and wheat, neat white farmhouses and pastures dotted with cattle, Logan Falls was a typical Midwestern town. Cobblestone streets and brick storefronts distinguished the downtown area. A silver-roofed bell tower graced the top of the courthouse. Across the street, a fountain punctuated the center of the business traffic loop. Beyond, a redbrick school surrounded by maples and stately oak trees separated the downtown area from a well-kept residential neighborhood.

They rode in silence to a more rural area, the only sound coming from the occasional crackle of Nick’s police radio. In the back seat, Stephanie stared out the window, her face pulled into a sullen mask Erin couldn’t begin to read.

“It looks like Mrs. Thornsberry’s home.”

Nick’s voice jerked Erin from her reverie. She looked over at him just as he turned the Suburban down a gravel drive lined on both sides by a white rail fence. Ahead, a white frame house with black shutters and a wraparound porch beckoned. Erin wasn’t sure where she’d expected Nick Ryan to live, but it wasn’t here. The home spread out before her looked like a happy place where children played and adults barbecued in the backyard. But on closer inspection, she noticed the signs that no children had played in this yard for quite some time. A swing set sat like an abandoned ship in a sea of lush grass. A basketball hoop mounted above the garage door was rusty, its netting torn and swinging in the breeze.

Erin smiled when she noticed the spotted horse grazing next to the rail fence. “Whose horse?” she asked, hoping to land on a subject that would brighten Stephanie’s mood.

“That’s Bandito,” the little girl replied. “He’s an Appaloosa.”

“He’s beautiful,” Erin said. “Do you ride?”

“I used to be in 4-H and show in western pleasure and trail.” Stephanie sighed. “But I don’t anymore.”

“How come?”

A sound of disgust emanated from the back seat. “As if you haven’t noticed, my legs aren’t exactly strong enough to stay in the stirrups.”

Turning in her seat, Erin smiled at her. “Have you ever heard of therapeutic horseback riding?”

The little girl studied her with soft, intelligent eyes that held a lot more interest than she was letting on with her responses. “No.”

“That’s where kids with disabilities ride horses, work out their muscles and, basically, have a lot of fun.”

“My dad says we’re going to retire Bandito.”

Erin risked a look at Nick. “Have you checked with her doc—”

“Steph is concentrating most of her time on physical therapy,” Nick said firmly, then looked in the rearview mirror and smiled at her. “Aren’t you, honeybunch?”

“Yeah, but I still miss Bandito,” she said.

Deciding it might be a good idea to steer the conversation away from the riding aspect of horse ownership, Erin tried another approach. “Well, since you don’t ride anymore, Steph, maybe you could just show him to me one of these days.”

“Bandito doesn’t like strangers,” the little girl said.

Nick shot his daughter another look in the rearview mirror as he parked the truck. “That’s enough, Steph. Deputy McNeal is trying to be friendly.”

“Well, she keeps asking dumb questions.”

He shut down the engine and opened his door, terminating a conversation Erin wished she’d never started. She got out of the truck, and watched as Nick unloaded the wheelchair. He opened the rear passenger door, scooped the little girl into his arms and set her in the chair.

“I don’t mind waiting out here,” Erin said quickly, when he started for the house.

Nick paused and frowned at her. “You may as well come in. Mrs. Thornsberry will want to meet you.”

“Mrs. Thornsberry?”

“Stephanie’s nanny.”

“Oh.” Feeling awkward, Erin fell into step beside him as he wheeled his daughter toward the front door. Being a cop in Logan Falls was definitely going to be different than being a cop in Chicago.

The farmhouse was set on several acres. A big maple tree shaded the side yard. Beyond, a small barn with Dutch doors and an adjacent circular pen stood as if in testimony that Bandito had once led a very busy life. The fact that Stephanie no longer rode her horse bothered Erin. Childhood was precious and she didn’t want to see this little girl miss out on any of it.

The front door swung open. “Nick? Stephanie? For goodness sakes, what are you doing home this time of day?” A short, round woman with graying hair and bifocals greeted them with a maternal smile. “Do we have a guest?”

“This is Deputy McNeal.” Nick looked at Erin. “This is Mrs. Thornsberry.”

Relief trembled through Erin that Stephanie and Nick had a strong woman in their lives. Mrs. Thornsberry wasn’t a day under seventy, but Erin could tell the instant they made eye contact that the woman was anything but frail. Mrs. Thornsberry might be only five feet tall, but behind that gentle facade and favorite-aunt voice lay the compassion and wisdom of a grandmother, and the iron will of a five-star general.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” Erin said sincerely.

Mrs. Thornsberry’s gaze was unwavering. “Welcome to Logan Falls.” Her eyes settled on Stephanie, and she frowned. “Why aren’t you in school, young lady?”

The little girl concentrated on her sneakers.

Nick squeezed his daughter’s shoulder. “She showed up at the station. Said she wanted to ride with me today.”

“Cutting class again, more like it.” Though the nanny’s voice was firm, Erin didn’t miss the thinly concealed sympathy in it. Mrs. Thornsberry swung the door wide and walked back into the house. “Grab Steph’s book bag, will you?” she said over her shoulder to Erin.

Erin lifted the book bag from Stephanie’s lap.

Nick shot her a small, covert smile. “I think you passed inspection.”

“I take it that’s good?” Erin said.

“Took Hector a few tries.”

Without waiting for a response, he pushed the wheelchair over the custom-made threshold. Erin followed with the book bag.

The first thing she noticed was the aroma of home-cooked food. Frank Sinatra’s silky voice filled the air. The furniture was older, but of fine quality. A comfortable-looking sofa and matching easy chair sat in a grouping across from a console TV. In the dining room beyond, a sewing machine and bundles of fabric covered the length of the dinner table.

“You caught me mending,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “Stephanie, I expect you have homework.” Without missing a beat she turned to Nick and looked at him over her bifocals. “Shall I call the principal this time, or do you want to?”

He grimaced. “I took care of it.”

“Are you going to take her back to school?” the nanny asked.

“She wants to stay home today,” he said.

“She’s missed an awful lot this year.”

“I’ll see about getting her assignments, Em.”

Nodding, Mrs. Thornsberry turned to Erin. “Would you like coffee?”

“We can’t stay,” Nick interjected.

“Oh, come now, Chief. Don’t put me off. I just made a fresh pot of that hazelnut stuff.”

“I don’t have any homework,” Stephanie complained.

Mrs. Thornsberry clucked her tongue. “Then why don’t you go into your room and write me a nice letter explaining why you left school without permission again, honey?”

Stephanie rolled her eyes.

“I’ll bring you some milk and cookies in a bit,” the nanny finished. “Do you take cream, Deputy McNeal?”

The woman switched topics so effortlessly, it took Erin a moment to realize she was speaking to her. “Call me Erin,” she said. “Cream would be fine. Thank you.”

Stephanie turned her wheelchair and started down the hall. Something warm jumped in Erin’s chest when Nick followed, stooping to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “Do as Mrs. T. asks, Steph,” he said softly. “I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

The little girl looked at him from beneath long lashes. “Will you teach me how to play chess tonight?”

“You already know how to play chess.” He touched her cheek with his knuckles. “You beat the pants off me last time.”

She grinned. “I’ll let you win.”

“Deal.” Nick held out his hand, and she gave him a high five.

“’Kay.” The little girl wheeled toward her room.

Erin couldn’t help but feel she’d intruded on a private moment, but she hadn’t been able to look away. The grimfaced police chief who’d berated her just half an hour earlier seemed incongruous with the father who dealt so gently with this child.

She was still staring when he turned toward her. The warmth in her chest spread when his gaze met hers. For an instant, she thought she’d never seen a man look so sad.

“Hell of a way for you to spend your first morning on the job,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she replied, realizing the situation was probably just as uncomfortable for him.

“I should tell you up front that most of my deputies have picked Stephanie up at one time or another.” He grimaced. “She’s been cutting school. Most times, I’m around. But if I’m not, I expect whoever’s on duty to drive her home.”

“I’ll be happy to drive her home when you’re not around.”

“Steph’s a good kid. She’s just going through a tough time right now.”

“How old is she?”

“She’ll be nine on Saturday.”

Erin didn’t have any idea what kind of birthday gift a nine-year-old girl would want, but knew she wanted to get her something. Anything to bring some joy—no matter how minute—into that little girl’s life.

“How long has she been cutting school?” she asked.

“About a year.”

Remembering he didn’t wear a ring, she said, “Divorce is tough on kids, but they’re amazingly resilient.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. “I’m a widower.”

The shadow in his eyes came and went so quickly, Erin wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. Appalled by her blunder, she cringed. “I’m sorry. I just assumed—”

“It’s a common assumption. Don’t sweat it.”

Considering Nick was a widower, Stephanie’s behavior took on a whole new light. A pang went through Erin when she thought of her own mother, and how lonely a young girl could be growing up without one.

“Here’s your coffee.”

Erin looked up, relieved to see Mrs. Thornsberry coming from the kitchen with a tray. The coffee smelled like heaven.

“Thank you,” she said, accepting her cup.

“Did you invite Erin to Stephanie’s party on Saturday, Chief?” the nanny asked.

Nick shot the older woman a warning look over the rim of his cup. “No.”

Judging from his expression, Erin deduced he wasn’t necessarily glad the nanny had brought up the subject. Erin couldn’t blame him, after the way she’d reacted to his daughter’s wheelchair. Besides, she didn’t know any of them well enough to expect to get invited to a party. Vowing not to take it personally, she moved to let him off the hook. “I’ll probably be tied up unpacking—”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Thornsberry said. “It will be a good opportunity for you to get to know Stephanie and Nick. Hector will be here, too. We’d like you to come—”

“She’s going to be on duty, Em,” Nick interjected.

Mrs. Thornsberry barely spared him a glance. “Well, maybe you can stop in for a piece of cake after your shift.”

Nick’s cell phone chirped. Murmuring a quick apology, he set his cup on the dining room table, tugged the phone from his pocket and answered with a curt utterance of his name.

“When?” he asked sharply.

His tone caught Erin’s attention, and she set her own cup on the table.

“I’ll be right there.” Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he turned to Erin. “We’ve got an emergency call.”